Afraid of Change
by toomuchtoosoon
Summary: The start of the Ducks' junior year at Eden Hall brings turmoil on & off the ice. A new captain, new teammates, breakups, personal revelations...It will be a year full of changes. Can the Ducks deal? Features Adam, Charlie, ConnieGuy, Portman. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

This is a very short prelude to the rest of the story. Thanks to all who read "Wanting What You Have." This is a little different because while the story does focus on Adam Banks, the rest of the Ducks will play a bigger role in the plot and exploring their own personal feelings. The details in this story should correspond to those established in my previous story. Thank you and enjoy.

Scott "Scooter" Vanderbilt III strolled through the Eden Hall Academy Varsity locker room after his post-game shower, towel wrapped around his toned, athletic waist. "Good win today, guys. Ashland didn't stand a chance; 11-0. Lunch Box, awesome check on Lawrence Evers—he'll be feeling that tomorrow morning. Party Pants, sweet assist to GQ. But major props go out to Banksie—three goals, 1 assist. You ruled tonight. Moment of silence so we can recognize Banksie's general domination." Scooter looked around with a grin on his face—it was easy to see that he enjoyed his BMOC status. "So, are we partying tonight?"  
  
While the general hoopla of the locker room surrounded the team's senior captain and star goalie, Adam Banks sat on the bench in front of his locker and quietly wrapped his right wrist. As a sophomore, Adam found himself in a weird position. When he was a freshman on Varsity, Adam played behind the first and second line senior centers, Rick Riley and Owen Thomas. He could quietly bide his time and develop with minimal expectations. With their departure last year, Adam suddenly was thrust into the role of first- line center and focus of the offense of a team expected to win a state championship every year. Although Adam succeeded on the ice as Varsity's leading scorer and was given Minnesota second-team honors, he never fully was comfortable with the off-ice team dynamic.  
  
Adam never blamed most of his Varsity teammates for resenting his presence on the team. He left Varsity his freshman year just before the annual JV/Varsity Showdown and had aided in handing Varsity its first loss in the history of the game. That feeling of euphoria ended abruptly when Adam's father insisted that he rejoin the Varsity team in order to fine-tune his skills. Coach Wilson happily took him back, glad to have a talented young center to groom after the departure of his senior stars. When Adam first made Varsity, many of his teammates came to trust and accept him—probably because Adam came from a well-off WASP family. Although they put up a front, many of them felt betrayed when Adam left. It was safe to say that the reception that the Varsity team gave Adam when he returned was quite chilly, and stayed cold for the remainder of the year.  
  
And so came the awkward feeling Adam had towards his sophomore year with Varsity. His two biggest antagonists, Rick Riley and Eric Cole, had graduated and Scooter stepped into the leadership role as captain. Although Scooter always genuinely tried to incorporate him into the team dynamic off the ice, Adam never really fit in. To Adam's dismay, he found himself losing his connection with his teammates on the Ducks. Charlie, like Scooter, made a valiant attempt to keep Adam in the loop but nonetheless there was no way that he could share the same relationship with the Ducks that they all had with each other. There were countless times when Adam was at the local pizza parlor with Varsity on a Friday night and see the Ducks there, too, on the opposite end, laughing and having fun. There was never a day that Adam did not miss that. However, there was nothing he could do and it frustrated Adam to no end.  
  
Adam shook himself out of the memory. It was the first day of his junior year and things were going to be different. Scooter had graduated, and Adam was going to miss his good friend. However, his friends on the Ducks were finally going to join him on the Varsity team. The seniors on the team were all pretty agreeable guys who had no real agenda against Adam. Adam's life was finally going to return to normal. Of course, in the back of Adam's mind he knew that life was never normal.


	2. Setting the Stage

Note: I finally noticed that for minor characters, such as Orion's daughter and Charlie's stepdad, I unconsciously use the names used in other fanfics. I don't do this intentionally but I think that it adds a nice continuity to the fanfic world. I apologize to anyone whose names I stole!

Charlie Conway welcomed the idea of returning to school after vacation. The end of the summer meant that he could finally get away from home. Charlie always felt a pang of guilt when this thought entered his mind—he loved his mom and it was horrible of him to ever wish to be away. It was his heinous stepfather Charlie could not stand—Ray spent the whole summer goading him, subtly trying to curry favor from Charlie's mom.  
  
"Honey, wouldn't it be a great idea to send Charlie to Freeman's Point this summer?" Ray had mentioned one day over the morning paper. Charlie remembered looking up sharply from his bowl of Lucky Charms. Freeman's Point was a summer camp for "troubled adolescents looking to find maturity, courage and strength"—but everyone knew that it was really a place where parents shipped off their kids to perform hard labor under the watchful eyes of malicious counselors. More like Nazis, Charlie thought. His mom looked ever-so-slightly interested in the prospect, smiling and nodding naively at Ray's enthusiasm. The only reason his mom ended up deciding against it was because she wanted to spend some 'quality time' with Charlie. Casey Conway Jenkins was a different person now, Charlie thought, and he had no allies at home anymore.  
  
Charlie sauntered through the hallways of Eden Hall on the morning of his first day of school, full of cock-sure confidence and self-assurance. He was an upperclassman now, albeit just a junior, and Charlie had this inexplicable feeling that he owned this school. This year was going to be great.  
  
Charlie smiled as he spotted his best friend, Adam Banks, walking up to him with his slightly uncoordinated gait. Eden Hall did not enforce a uniform policy, but Adam Banks still dressed in pressed khakis, a crisp button-down shirt and tie. Charlie had to laugh at how someone as skillful, dominating and beautiful to watch on the ice could be so awkward off of it. Maybe with the new year Adam would learn how to have a little more confidence in himself. In the newspapers, sports reporters who covered prep hockey sometimes referred to Adam as a piranha—ruthless and relentless. He could spot a weakness in his opponent's game and pick it apart like a general forcing an enemy into surrender. As soon as Adam stepped off the ice, however, he tended to defer to others and keep to himself. Nonetheless, they were the best of friends and Charlie was glad to see him.  
  
They slapped hands in greeting. "Hey, my man, how's my favorite captain?"  
  
Charlie smiled. "Hey, I'm good. And what are you talking about? Who says that I'm going to be captain this year?"  
  
Adam pounded him on the shoulder in jest. "Don't be cheeky, Conway, like you don't know that Wilson is going to choose you as captain. Who else is he going to pick? All the seniors this year are Riley/Cole flunkies who can't think for themselves and most of the team this year is going to be made up of Ducks."  
  
Charlie could not deny that he shared Adam's feelings. Charlie had been the Ducks' captain since the beginning and he had no intention of things changing. And why should they change, Charlie thought to himself as he and Adam walked down the hall, looking out for signs of the other Ducks. Life was just dandy the way it was and Charlie would take that, thank you very much.  
  
"What's your homeroom this year?" Adam's voice snapped Charlie out of his thoughts. "I have Jimenez with Tamsin, Julie and Portman I think."  
  
"I've got Williamson over at Greensburg Hall." Charlie thought for a moment. "Wait, doesn't Jimenez get all the honors kids? What is Portman doing in your homeroom?"  
  
Adam shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe administration made a mistake. Anyway, I should get to class. See you later, Conway."  
  
Charlie laughed. "Banks, it hasn't even been the first bell yet. Once a cake-eater, always a cake-eater, right?"  
  
"Man, shut up," Adam could not help but smile as he entered his classroom, probably to discuss with Jimenez the Latin classics he read over the summer.  
  
Charlie was caught by surprise as he felt a weight suddenly on his back. Charlie turned his head and Linda, his girlfriend, laughed playfully and kissed him on the cheek as he gave her an impromptu and carefree piggy-back ride down the hall. "Hey I missed you this summer. When did you get back from Florida?"  
  
"I only got back this morning at 3:00am. I'm rooming with Connie. Did you know that she and Guy broke up over the summer?"  
  
Charlie was taken aback as he let Linda off of his back. "Wait, what? How did this happen?" Connie Moreau and Guy Germaine had been together for as long as Charlie could remember. Back when Charlie was still sticking gum in the girls' hair back in preschool, Connie and Guy practically had their wedding vows written.  
  
Linda shrugged. "I don't know. Connie was kind of hazy on the details. I suppose you could ask when you see them at your hockey practice today, right?"  
  
Charlie was distracted from Linda's words. "Yeah, sure." The news disconcerted him more than it should have. Connie and Guy were the most stable of constants in Charlie's life and their breakup threw him for a loop.  
  
Charlie dropped Linda off at her homeroom and stopped at the doorway of Mr. Williamson's room and took in the scene. Les Averman, Greg Goldberg, Fulton Reed, Luis Mendoza and Ken Wu were already there, huddled together, probably catching up on their summer activities. Charlie heard snippets of their conversation as he approached. "...got together with the homies and played some Final Fantasy...helped my parents pick out some new meats for the deli...so sad to say goodbye to Mindy" and he smiled. There were some things he could count on to stay the same.


	3. First Day stories

Dean Portman stormed into the office of Mark Turner, Eden Hall's academic counselor. Mr. Turner barely looked up at Dean's angry entrance. "Can I help you, Mr. Portman?"  
  
Dean waved a piece of paper in Mr. Turner's face. "What is this?! These aren't the classes I signed up for last year, Turner!"  
  
Mr. Turner looked at him calmly and accessed Dean's record in the school computer system, his glasses balancing on the edge of his nose. "Let's see. Ah, yes, I believe last year you signed up for Advanced Shop II, Advanced Shop III, Algebra and Basic English/ Composition. That schedule is not exactly murderer's row, Mr. Portman."  
  
"I can't do this, Mr. Turner. You have me down to take classes with all these preppy honors kids. I don't belong in Calculus and Advanced Literature."  
  
"Why exactly is it that you do not belong in these classes? As I understand it, you share these classes with some of your friends; Ms. Julie Gaffney and Mr. Adam Banks."  
  
Portman exuded an expression of frustration. "I'm not a brainiac like Banks or Gaffney. All I know about are cars and hockey."  
  
Mr. Turner leaned back into his black leather executive chair. "Do you really believe that, Mr. Portman? Eden Hall receives the scores of all its students who take the SAT, which I believe measures the natural aptitude of a student, regardless of background. Your scores were off the charts. I think that you're smarter than you think. Do you realize that you've maintained a 3.5 GPA during your time here at Eden Hall? Don't you think its time that you've started challenging yourself? Have you even thought about college yet?"  
  
Portman snorted and almost smiled as he noticed the grimace that the sound evoked from Mr. Turner. "Right after I graduate I'm going back to Chicago to work in my dad's auto shop—I don't need to go to college."  
  
Mr. Turner studied Portman in heavy contemplation, taking note of his leather jacket, black jeans and earring. "Is that what you really want, Dean?" His voice had an almost imperceptible tone of earnestness and pleading.  
  
Portman did not even hesitate. "Of course. Now, I want to change my classes."  
  
Mr. Turner shook his head and failed at hiding a smile. "I'm afraid that's not possible right now, Mr. Portman. We're processing far too many requests and your case would take at least a week to take care of. Why don't you take some time to think about it, see how these classes feel—and then if you insist that they're not right for you, we'll talk again. Sound fair?"  
  
Portman waved a hand dismissively over his shoulder as he was already headed out the door. "Whatever, Turner."

Connie Moreau sat sullenly on a bench on Commons Field before her English class. She fished around absently in her book bag and produced a make-up compact. Connie groaned as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. I look like a wreck, Connie thought. Her normally long, brown and shiny hair was dull and disheveled. She applied bronzer to her now-sallow skin in an attempt to restore its normally glowing color. "It's no use," Connie muttered to herself as she closed her compact sharply with a snap.  
  
She barely turned her head as Julie called her name from behind. "Connie! It sucks that I'm not rooming with you this year. How was your summer? What's going on?" Julie gave her a look of concern.  
  
"What's going on," Connie said through clenched teeth, "is that Guy and I broke up."  
  
Julie could not hide her shocked expression and put Connie in an embrace. "Why? This seems so sudden."  
  
Connie threw her hands up in disgust. This was the same question she was asking herself everyday. "We were eating at this Mexican restaurant in St. Paul when Guy ordered my food without even asking me—he does that all the time. I told him off and he blew up, going on about how I've changed and how I'm not the same girl I was when he first met me."  
  
Julie interrupted. "What did he mean by that?" Julie could not venture a guess. Both Connie and Guy, she now concluded, were certifiably insane. They had no business breaking up--Julie had always considered them a couple that 'worked.'  
  
"I don't even know what Guy means! For Pete's sake, we were five when we met! He's the one who's changed. Guy used to be so sweet and sensitive and...different. He doesn't even wear that stupid hat that I love. We're not on the same wavelength anymore."  
  
Julie could not hide a look of confusion. "If this was mutual, then why are you so upset?"  
  
Connie gave Julie a look of frustration as if the answer was obvious. "I saw him walking around this morning with his arm around Francesca Nielson. Are you kidding me? Francesca Nielson?"  
  
"Wait, what's wrong with Francesca Nielson? I had chemistry with her last year and she was really nice."  
  
Connie rolled her eyes—Julie was really bad at this 'supportive best friend' act. She made a smooth transition into her imitation of Francesca, with a vacant expression and a lock of hair twirled around her finger. "This is the girl who has uttered such infamous phrases like 'I like puppies...I think' and 'It's like hot outside...but not'! And plus, we broke up last week! I'd expect a little mourning to go on first."  
  
Julie frowned. "That's really rough, Connie." There was silence for a moment. "Hey, did I tell you that Scooter started crying after I helped him move into his dorm?"  
  
Connie's face was aghast. Sometimes Julie had no sense of timing—she somehow found the worst possible thing to say to Connie at this moment. She gave Julie a punch in the arm that was only half-playful. "Oh, shut up!"


	4. Choosing a Captain

Coach Richard Wilson's voice could be heard above everything else. There were hockey players in drill lines, taking shots at the goalies in each of the goals. "Keep shooting, come at him relentlessly!"  
  
A female voice could be heard from the far end of the rink. "Hey!"  
  
"I'm sorry, Ms. Gaffney. By the way, great save!"  
  
Charlie ambled over to where Coach Wilson stood. "How's it going, Coach? I hope we've been meeting your expectations."  
  
Wilson barely turned his head from his observations. "Yes, of course. Coach Orion has prepared you excellently. Did you need anything?"  
  
Charlie hesitated for a moment. "Well, I was just wondering if you were posting positions today. I don't want to rush you or anything."  
  
Wilson nodded absently. "Yes, yes, of course. I've seen enough to make those decisions today."  
  
"Have you already chosen a captain?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fairly certain I know whom I am going to choose. I'll make the announcement in the locker room today. Is that all?"  
  
Charlie searched Wilson's face for any clue. "Yeah, that's all—"  
  
"Oh, great move, Adam! Have you been working on that this summer?"  
  
Charlie started skating away when Coach Wilson finally turned to him. "Oh, and Mr. Conway, thank you for showing Barry how to refine his deke. That shows real leadership there."  
  
Charlie tried to hide his smile. "Thanks, Coach."  
  
Coach Wilson entered the men's locker room with a quick shove of the door. "Alright, good work today, guys." He paused for a moment and left the locker room. Wilson's voice could be heard next door. "Are you girls decent? Come on over into the other locker room."  
  
He reentered the locker room, this time with Julie and Connie in tow.  
  
Wilson held up a single piece of paper. "I'm posting positions today—but of course, as the season goes on I'm willing to move people up or down depending on how hard you're all willing to work on your games and how the different lineup combinations end up working. Practice is everyday at 3:30 and I have yet to find a reasonable excuse for being late—so don't."  
  
He looked around the locker room and noted the huddled group of former Junior Varsity players on his left side, and returning Varsity seniors on the other. Adam Banks sat isolated in his usual corner, wrapping his right wrist.  
  
"I expect full dedication from each and every single one of you. Eden Hall Varsity hockey is no joke. We've won the state championship 12 times in a row and I have no intention of that streak stopping now. Last year, we had two players honored on Minnesota's all-state hockey teams—we're going to miss Scott like hell, but luckily for us, the other is only a junior this year and has time to improve by leaps and bounds. Our first-line center again this year will be Adam Banks, and most of our offense with run through him." Adam barely lifted his head in response to his name.  
  
"He will be joined on the first-line by senior Derek Martin and junior Dwayne Robertson. On defense I'll be going with Greg Goldberg and Jason Hughes. Ms. Gaffney—your playing style reminds me so much of Scott that it's ridiculous. You and Preston Marshall will be taking turns starting at goaltender, depending on the match-up. Any questions?"  
  
Many players on both sides may have had objections, but knew better than to gripe on the first day. Coach Wilson continued, "When I choose captains for my varsity teams, I take many different factors into account. Every team is different, so there has to be new criteria every year."  
  
Adam and Charlie glanced at each other from across the locker room with knowing smiles. This is it, Charlie thought. He looked around and saw some of the seniors with expressions of expectation on their faces. Charlie almost snorted to himself—those guys were going to be disappointed.  
  
"This year, I can see that we're a team divided--Just look around this locker room. I have two distinct groups—the new juniors and my returning seniors--each of whom has played together for many years. I know that it's not going to be easy integrating two teams into one, and so I need a captain who can provide me an emotional link. This young man came highly recommended to me by Scott, and I take his personal opinion very seriously."  
  
Charlie was confused. He did not know Scooter particularly well, so there was no way that Scooter would be sending a recommendation his way. Who could Coach Wilson be talking about? According to Adam, all the seniors this year were lackeys that Scooter detested. He did not know any of the Ducks well enough to put a word in for any of them.  
  
"Through my personal observations, this young man has a lot of promise. He has gone through much adversity and overcome all the obstacles that have come his way. He's a quiet guy, but I believe given a chance, he'll rise up and make one hell of a leader." There was an air of uncertainty all over the locker room. There were questioning whispers as everyone waited for Wilson to continue.  
  
"It also doesn't hurt that this young man has been on my varsity team longer than anyone in this room," Wilson added.  
  
At that moment Charlie knew and sat there frozen.  
  
"So, I would finally like to announce that our captain for this season will be Adam Banks. Let's all give him a hand."  
  
There was silence in the locker room as everyone sat there, practically in shock. A single voice broke the stillness. "Wait, what?" Adam's attention was finally caught as he spoke his surprise.  
  
Charlie leaned back against his locker, face in his hands in frustration. This could not be happening. 


	5. The Mirror

Guy was playing his Game Boy Advance when Adam trudged into their dorm room and plopped onto the bed, forearm over his eyes in frustration.  
  
"Guy, please tell me this isn't happening."  
  
Guy's eyes did not leave the game screen. "What are you doing back so early--I thought you and Tom were going to the movies? Did the fact that you were about to spend two hours watching 'The Notebook' finally hit you? I mean, those are two hours of your life you're never going to get back."  
  
Adam's voice was muffled with his face in his hands. "Tamsin took Pilar instead. About halfway to the theater she stopped the car, turned around and dropped me off back here. Tamsin said she didn't want my wallowing to ruin her Ryan Gosling experience."  
  
Guy's face scrunched up in concentration as he reached a difficult part of his game. "It really isn't that bad. Charlie will get over it. It's not like you planned on getting captain."  
  
Adam sighed. "I know, but I'm sure that Charlie thinks I did. You should have seen the look he gave me after practice—he had murder in his eyes."  
  
"Well, what are you going to do?" Adam thought, and the only noise in the room was Guy's incessant button-tapping and the music blaring from the room next door.  
  
A pent-up energy seemed to burst within Adam. "I don't know! I don't have the leadership abilities to run this team! Oh crap, I—"  
  
"Chill, Adam! Get a hold of yourself, or else I'm going to be forced to put down my Game Boy Advance and kick your ass—and that won't be pretty."  
  
Adam was stunned into silence. After a few moments, the two burst out laughing and Adam threw a pillow at Guy's head. "Seriously, what are you going to do?"  
  
Adam became solemn again. "I guess I have to tell Wilson that I can't be captain." He changed the subject. "And what about you, Guy? What's going on with you and Francesca Nielson?"  
  
Guy smiled, a locker-room grin meant to be shared between two males. "She was looking GOOD today with that skirt of hers, huh?"  
  
"What about Connie? You dumped possibly the coolest girl we know for a girl who channels Jessica Simpson."  
  
Guy frowned. "Don't say that—and let's not talk about Connie."  
  
"Why not? Is that all you're going to say about someone you've dated since we can all remember? What went wrong?"  
  
It was Guy's turn to look thoughtful. "I don't know. But I just woke up one day and things just didn't feel the same between us."  
  
"Okay, so it's not the same. It's different because people change. The two of you aren't middle school students in puppy love anymore and you can't act that way. But can you honestly say that it's bad? Bad enough to give up something special for?"  
  
Another silence pervaded the room and Guy gave Adam a sly smile before answering. "Did I tell you that Francesca just got a chromed-out Honda s2000 for her birthday? Six-speed manual transmission, black leather interior...Whew, it's a dandy."  
  
Adam rolled his eyes. Guy really was something else.  
  
"He knew all along that Wilson was going to choose him! He probably put Scooter up to giving him the recommendation!" Charlie paced back and forth in the dorm room he shared with Fulton Reed. Charlie had never been so furious in his life. Adam was so convincing that morning before homeroom. "Who else is Wilson going to choose?" Charlie knew now that it was all just an act.  
  
"Come on, Charlie, be reasonable. You saw the look on Adam's face when Wilson made his announcement—he was just as surprised as the rest of us." Fulton thought back to freshman year, the last time Charlie thought he had been betrayed by Adam. Hell, all of the Ducks thought that Adam had been part of the Varsity prank at the Country Club. But now, Fulton knew Adam. Adam, Fulton believed, was not capable of consciously hurting any of his friends. So, as bad as it looked, Fulton had to believe that Adam truly was unaware of Coach Wilson's intention to name him captain over Charlie.  
  
Charlie went on as if he did not hear Fulton. "And what was Wilson thinking? Adam doesn't have the skills to run this team! This is the guy who threw up during Public Speaking class sophomore year! We can't very well have him puking all over the team box whenever he has to speak before games."  
  
Fulton frowned at Charlie's petty behavior. It surprised him because it was so unlike Charlie. "Man, that was out of line and you know it. Why do you have to be so hard on him? I thought he was your best friend. Just give him a chance. If Adam totally fucks up, the rest of us will do something about it. There's nothing to worry about."  
  
Charlie's face was set. "There's no way we can wait for that to happen. I'm talking to Wilson tomorrow."  
  
Fulton sighed and resigned himself. Undoubtedly this was going to get ugly, but his options right now were severely limited. All Fulton could do was sit back and prepare himself for the oncoming storm.  
  
Charlie woke up bright and early the next morning, and repeating prepared words in his head as he headed towards Coach Wilson's office. "...In my personal opinion...lacks skills necessary...maintain health of the team..." Charlie was startled to see Adam already seated, obviously there for a purpose.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Adam winced at the slight edge in Charlie's tone.  
  
"I just wanted to talk to Wilson about some things." Adam kept his words deliberately vague—he did not want Charlie to know what his intentions were.  
  
"Like going over all of your carefully-laid plans on how you want this team run?" Charlie almost felt a pang of regret as he witnessed an expression of genuine hurt on Adam's face. But Charlie quickly pushed that emotion away as he remembered his own hurt feelings. "Don't try to pretend with me, Banks—I know that you wanted it all along."  
  
"That's not true, Charlie. I would never—"  
  
"Are you gentlemen waiting for Coach Wilson?" A new voice interrupted their argument. Coach Wilson's assistant, George Johnson, appeared out of his own office. There was distress in his demeanor. "You didn't hear? Coach Wilson suffered a heart attack last night and is in the hospital right now."  
  
Adam and Charlie were shocked. "Is he okay?" Neither of them was quite sure who said it—the moment felt surreal.  
  
"Yes, yes, he'll be fine," Mr. Johnson assured the two. He lowered his voice. "But its likely Coach Wilson will not be back—he's been dealing with heart problems for years now. He'll probably take an early retirement to watch over his health."  
  
Charlie knew that it was inappropriate, but he felt the need to ask. "What's going to happen with our Varsity team?"  
  
Mr. Johnson ran a hand through his mussed hair. "I think Dean Buckley mentioned bringing Coach Orion up to Varsity while I would take over on the junior squad. Now, excuse me, I should probably head over to the hospital." He nodded and started walking down the gymnasium hallway, leaving Charlie and Adam alone. The two looked at each other, not quite sure how they felt about this piece of news. Charlie let Adam start walking out first, and then followed suit about fifteen seconds later.  
  
Charlie finally realized the implications of the news and tried to suppress the ensuing jump-in-his-step. With Coach Orion taking over, Charlie would make quick work of returning his life on the ice back to normal. 


	6. Zach Graft

"It's not official, but Coach Wilson probably isn't coming back." Adam and Portman were lab partners in their Advanced Biology class. Adam was filling Portman in on the current predicament the team faced with Wilson's departure. "We're probably on our own at practice today, so I guess I'm going to have to run it, or something." Adam glanced sideways at Portman to see if he was listening.  
  
The two of them were at opposite ends of the visual spectrum. Both boys wore the standard crisp white lab coat and goggles, but still their differences shone through. Adam wore crisp khaki slacks with carefully ironed cuffs and creases, an All-American blue plaid button-down shirt and his hair fastidiously styled. The thick, black and square-framed glasses he wore for safety reasons instead of his contacts on lab days gave Adam's features a serious and expressionless tone. Portman, on the other hand, was something completely different. Portman dressed in his standard black jeans with ripped knees, black Morgan Park t-shirt and handkerchief tied across his unruly, shaggy black hair. He looked nothing like the standard Eden Hall Academy honors student, yet at this moment Portman was intently mixing a solution as outlined in their lab instructions.  
  
"Portman? Are you hearing anything that I'm saying?"  
  
Portman looked up and handed a beaker to Adam, indicating the set of instructions in the lab Adam was supposed to follow. "Yeah, go on."  
  
Adam continued while pouring various chemicals into his beaker. "So, anyway, I'm going to fill the seniors in at lunch today and we can—"  
  
Portman interrupted. "Don't forget to dilute the sodium nitrate so that it prolongs the reaction and makes it easier to observe—and replace the tip of that micropipette before you forget and adulterate our results."  
  
Adam stopped himself from adding the chemical. "Oh, yeah—thanks, Portman." Adam raised his eyebrow. "You're really prepared for this lab. If I didn't know better, I'd say that you really enjoy this stuff. Don't think I didn't see you reading ahead in our T.S. Eliot book for AdLit."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, preppy. I'm just biding my time until Turner lets me ditch these classes."  
  
Adam kept himself from laughing aloud at Portman's none-too-convincing tone. "Alright, Portman—whatever you say. Practice at 3:30—don't forget."  
  
Guy sat with Francesca Nielson at a lunch table in the cafeteria, trying to zone out her vapid conversation with a bunch of her fellow blond, perfect friends. He contemplated with great energy about the fork he held in his hand. Guy's forehead scrunched in concentration as he imagined the said fork piercing into his eye. That would suck, he thought, but it could not possibly be more painful than listening to this incessant droning of high- pitched, faked voices.

"And then Rachel said that Nora said that Tina made out with Jack behind Greg's back! Can you believe that? And then Rachel said that Greg found out because he found Tina's lip gloss in Jack's car." Francesca gave her friends a knowing look. "What am I always saying? Lip gloss tells tales. I bet that it was a tube of cheap lip gloss, too. You've all seen Tina try to hide that tube of Strawberry Smackers she has."  
  
The other girls nodded in enraptured agreement while Guy glanced across the table, where Luis and Kenny were sitting. They gave Guy a glare that said that they would kill him for causing them this torture—sometime soon, like at practice this afternoon. Guy covertly mouthed "I'm sorry," while pushing away his lunch plate. All of this shallow conversation was making him lose his appetite.  
  
Had Francesca ever said anything remotely meaningful or interesting to Guy in the time that they had known each other? Guy acknowledged that he was not a particularly deep guy, but come on. Once in awhile, he would like to have a conversation with his girlfriend that was not about the latest gossip about who kissed whom. Guy thought involuntarily about his relationship with Connie. They didn't have much in common, other than hockey, but they managed to have some spirited and memorable conversations nonetheless. Guy pushed the thought out of his mind—things with Connie were over and good riddance.  
  
Suddenly Kenny gave Guy a look that meant, turn around and look, NOW. Kenny's expression alarmed Guy, but he turned his head as casually as humanely possible. However, all pretence of casualness was blown to pieces at what he saw. Connie had just entered the cafeteria--looking vibrantly pretty Guy noticed--with the arm of a tall, burly, brown-haired guy around her shoulders.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me. Luis, please tell me this is a joke."  
  
Luis gave Guy a look of pity and nodded. "That's Zach Graft—the senior on the Varsity football team."  
  
"How the hell did that happen?" Guy tried hard not to look distressed, and was confused as to why he felt this way.  
  
"Zach's always had a thing for Connie, so when he heard she was single yesterday he just moved on in. That guy is used to getting what he wants, and apparently Connie had no objections—I guess they're an item now."  
  
The sight of Connie wearing Graft's Varsity letterman jacket inexplicably made Guy want to throw up. "This is total bullshit."  
  
Francesca turned to Guy suddenly and stroked his cheek with a gentle finger. "What's bullshit, honey?"  
  
Guy was flustered and stood up quickly. "I'll be right back." Guy walked like a man on a mission, yet did not know what exactly he was going to do. He settled for an informal approach, and tapped Connie on the shoulder. "We need to talk."  
  
Connie opened her mouth as if to respond, but closed it. She detached herself from Zach's side and whispered something in his ear. Zach smiled and nodded and Connie gave him a kiss on his cheek. Guy did his best to look away. Connie followed Guy silently out of the cafeteria and they walked, not really knowing where they were going. Connie and Guy ended up sitting on a bench on Commons Field.  
  
Guy spoke first. "What the hell are you doing with that Graft guy? He's a Grade-A jerk athlete who can't think for himself long enough to warm the car seat of that Mercedes he drives—except when he's thinking about how to get into the pants of whatever girl he's chasing at the moment."  
  
Connie gave him a defiant look. "As far as I know, the only jerk is the one sitting next to me right now. From what I can see, you're being a hypocrite with that FRANCESCA NIELSON." At the mention of the girl's name, Connie had an expression of disdain. "Or is there an actual personality trapped under that veneer of vacancy and shallowness?"  
  
Guy shifted uncomfortably in his seat because deep down he realized the factual nature of her statement. "This isn't about me, Connie. It's about you and Zach Graft. He's totally wrong for you."  
  
Connie and Guy sat in silence, a tension prevalent in the air. When Connie finally spoke, her voice was cold. "Guy...You lost your say in that matter a long time ago."


	7. It's a different team

Charlie was busy programming his iPod when Fulton returned from practice that afternoon.  
  
"Hey, Fulton," he said almost too casually.  
  
A man of few words, Fulton got right to his point. "Where the hell were you? Why weren't you at practice?"  
  
Charlie shrugged in his desk chair. "I was just hanging here, downloading songs into my iPod."  
  
Fulton felt his patience being stretched to its limits. "Can you tell me why you deemed this more important than going to practice?"  
  
Charlie didn't look Fulton in the eye. "Why should I? As far as I'm concerned, we have no coach and no captain. It'd be a waste of my time." With that, Charlie plugged earphones into his laptop and put them on, presumably ending the conversation.  
  
Fulton would have none of it, slapping the earphones off of Charlie's head. The frustration of having to deal with Charlie's immaturity had finally got to him. "Damnit Charlie, stop acting like a child! So you're not captain—deal with it! Things aren't always going to go your way!" Fulton took a moment to calm down. Charlie looked somewhat stunned.  
  
Quietly, Fulton added, "I used to admire you, Charlie—look up to you. When you looked in our eyes before a game, I faithfully believed that we could do anything. But seeing you now makes me wonder if that same guy even exists anymore." Fulton abruptly grabbed his book bag and random pieces of clothing from the drawer they shared.  
  
"Where are you going?" Charlie's feelings were visibly hurt, but he put on a face of defiance and his question was spoken with a tone of anger and antagonism.  
  
"I can't stay here—I'm going to crash on Portman and Dwayne's floor." Charlie had never seen Fulton so livid.  
  
Charlie wore a mask of nonchalance. "Fine, whatever."  
  
On his way out, Fulton said over his shoulder, "Oh and I'd be at practice if I were you—Orion is taking over as of tomorrow and you know how he doesn't tolerate that crap." Charlie was left alone in his room as the door slammed shut.  
  
The next day Charlie knocked softly on the doorway of Coach Orion's office. Orion smiled and waved Charlie in, concluding a conversation on the telephone. "I packed your lunch and it's in the refrigerator—turkey and avocado sandwich, chips and a bottle of water, just as you like it. Have a good day, Becky, and I'll be home after the Varsity practice. Love you."  
  
Charlie smiled to himself, realizing that Coach Orion had been speaking to his young daughter. Orion was very protective of her, ever since she had been disabled in a car accident years ago. It used to surprise Charlie to see the tender side of his coach that came out whenever his daughter was around, but now it just made him smile.  
  
"Hey Charlie." Orion gave him a conspiratorial grin. "I thought I'd be able to get away from you guys finally, but no such luck. How was practice yesterday?"  
  
"Oh, it was great," Charlie said quickly and untruthfully. "But there was something I wanted to talk to you about."  
  
"Oh yeah, you know you can talk to me about anything, Charlie. Shoot."  
  
Charlie took a deep breath and lunged into what was bothering him. "I've been the captain for your team for two years now, and I'd say I've done a hell of a good job." Charlie looked over at Orion for agreement.  
  
Orion nodded in response. "You've been everything I could have hoped for and more, Charlie."  
  
Charlie continued. "I would have no problem handing the reins over to someone else, provided that the person could bring superior skills and abilities as a leader to the table than I do. And that's something I just don't see in Adam."  
  
Orion leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want me to do, Charlie?"  
  
"You know what I can do, and I'm just giving you the option of setting things right." Charlie looked over at Orion, trying to gauge what he was feeling.  
  
Coach Orion's face was enigmatic. "Are you suggesting that I strip Adam of his Captain title and give it to you?"  
  
Charlie had thought that he was being quite obvious, so Coach Orion's question surprised him. "Yes, I suppose that is what I am suggesting."  
  
Coach Orion studied Charlie for a long, disconcerting moment. "Coach Wilson has been coaching hockey for over 30 years, and in his era, he has won over 15 state championships. This is a guy who knows what he is doing. I respect his decision and his reasons for naming Adam captain, and I'm not quite ready to overturn that decision just yet. And until Adam PROVES to me that he is not up to it, I don't think it's my right to change it. This is a different team now, Charlie. There are different expectations for a team that has won twelve championships in a row than the upstart junior varsity team you once were. These are not the same old Ducks anymore. You have at least 7 senior teammates who can't and won't buy into the spirit of what you believe in. And as hard to believe as it may seem, right now, Adam just makes the most sense. He's played Varsity hockey longer than anyone else on the team and knows how to handle the expectations and pressures of playing on this level. Adam has proven his skill on the ice and as much as those seniors won't admit it, he's the only one they respect right now."  
  
Charlie looked unconvinced. "I'm sorry, but that doesn't seem like a good enough reason to put the team in Adam's hands."  
  
"Give him a chance, Charlie—he might surprise you. I'll see you at practice today—3:30 sharp. Now get to class." 


	8. Game vs Pine Hurst Connie vs Guy

A couple of days later, the Eden Hall Varsity hockey team was in flux. Charlie and Adam were still not speaking. Fulton managed to stay sane sleeping on the floor of Portman and Dwayne's dorm, along with the arguably living molds of the half-eaten sandwiches hidden under their beds. Connie continued to date Zach Graft and Guy stayed with Francesca Nielson, possibly just to spite the other. Coach Orion never showed it, but the task of melding the senior Warriors and the junior Ducks proved harder than he expected. That worried him considerably, especially with the first game of the season so close.

The division the Varsity hockey team competed in was pretty standard; Eden Hall remained the cream of the crop, while Blake Academy, the Edoria School for Boys and the Ulysses Institute managed to be competitive, Pine Hurst and Altman Academy were the mainstays at .500 and Ashland Preparatory perennially took the role of the pushover.  
  
"Derek, pass the puck to Dwayne! Communicate out there!" Coach Orion was frustrated. Varsity was playing Pine Hurst, a team usually defeated with ease. However, late in the third period the game was in a 3-3 deadlock. Adam had managed to score two very impressive goals—he would garner much attention from the national media this year Orion was glad to note—but otherwise the team looked discombobulated and awkward and uncoordinated and convoluted and... Orion threw his hands up in frustration. The team looked like crap, and that was all there was to it.  
  
Adam was getting impatient on the ice. The chasm that he always feared existed between he and his Duck teammates rang true. Having learned under Coach Wilson's system for two years, Adam found himself playing more comfortably with Barry, Derek, Ryan, Nick, David and Jason on the ice than he did with any of the Ducks. Regardless, nobody was playing well tonight, and he had to attribute it to the fact that it was the Ducks' first Varsity game and the seniors had their own problems to deal with, adjusting to new teammates and a new coach. The end of the game was quickly approaching and something had to be done.  
  
"Okay, let's change it up! Germaine, Moreau, get in there!" Adam was relieved to see Orion change the rotation. Both Dwayne and Derek were both very talented players whose skills Adam respected, but they were very much 'me-first' kind of players who did not pass the puck often. Adam decided that he would speak to Orion about changing the first line. Anyway, from his experience, Connie and Guy were players that worked very well together. Attribute it to their long-term romance, their even longer-tenured friendship or whatever, but they had a mind-connection on the ice. Adam always enjoyed playing with them.  
  
Adam controlled the puck down the center lane of the ice, stealthily avoiding poke checks and body checks along the way. He saw Connie set up on the left-side of the ice and when the time was just right, Adam slapped the puck over to her direction.  
  
Usually in this situation, Connie would pass the puck off to Guy exactly where he always liked it and he would shoot, inevitably for a goal.  
  
Unfortunately, that is not what happened this time. At that moment Adam was hit from behind by a check and from his vantage point on the ice he saw the following events unfold, as if in slow motion. He saw Connie manipulate the puck in different directions, avoiding the oncoming defenders. Although Connie had unquestionably improved in her puck- handling skills since the last time Adam had played with her, now was definitely the time to pass to Guy. Adam turned his head and there was Guy on the right side, calling for the puck. Connie shot off herself, just as she was inadvertently tripped by a falling defender.  
  
It felt as if Adam was in a cheesy movie, but he watched the puck move weakly towards the Pine Hurst goal. Suddenly he heard Orion yell "Adam, thirty seconds left!" and he was a man possessed.  
  
In the far reaches of his hearing, Adam distantly heard Orion call for a line change as he, still on his knees, lunged for the puck and pushed it past the defender. Adam quickly got up and drove the puck down the ice, flanked all the way by both defenders. In a quick move he abruptly stopped and allowed the defenders' velocity to throw them off just enough to give Adam room. Now it was just him and the goalie, man to man. They locked eyes, both trying to fake out the other. Adam was acutely aware of the time running out and he deked, hoping that the goalie would bite onto it. Luckily, he did and Adam shot the puck, ricocheting it off of the right bar of the goal. The siren blared as the clock ran out. The Eden Hall Ducks/Warriors had won, 4-3.  
  
There was much excitement in the locker room. The thrill of the season's first victory, no matter how ugly it truly was, always came with a feeling of euphoria. Adam even saw two of his senior teammates, Nick Harden and Ryan Hudson, give Luis a pat on the back for being the game's other scorer. However, Adam had a difficult time concentrating on the celebration. There was something that nagged on his mind, a feeling of responsibility that he had never felt before.  
  
Adam leaned against the outside wall of the rink, just next to the entrance/exit. He waited a couple of minutes until he heard the doors open and the rest of his teammates set out to leave. Adam watched as Barry, Derek, Nick and Ryan sauntered out in their Varsity jackets, planning on heading to a party later that night. They were talking animatedly with Luis, who was very much their type. Jason, David and Preston were the more subdued seniors and they were headed back to the school cafeteria to grab a bite to eat for dinner and then to the library to study for an Advanced Math test. Surprisingly to most, but not to Adam, he saw Portman walking with them, talking of joining them in the library to get some work done on his Government paper. Finally, Adam spotted Guy, with Connie not that far behind. He hissed their names and they looked surprised, but came towards Adam at his beckoning.  
  
Adam plunged headfirst into what was bothering him. "Your breakup is your business and I've respected that...but when your breakup starts affecting the team, then it becomes my business. You two are Varsity players now, and you have responsibilities to me, the Ducks, the senior Warriors, Coach Orion, Dean Buckley, this school and even to the state of Minnesota. You cannot take your frustrations out on each other when you're on the ice." Connie and Guy both grimaced with shame as they realized what Adam was talking about.  
  
Adam continued. "It's irresponsible and exasperating. You need to get it together and work it out before your negative dynamic starts affecting future games."  
  
Connie and Guy each nodded in agreement.  
  
Adam gave them a smile. "And while we're on the subject and we've all agreed to make this my business...I just wanted to say that I think that the two of you are crazy. You've both grown up and become different people, but so what? You just don't wake up one day and stop caring about each other."  
  
Connie and Guy turned to look at each other intently and they laughed at the same time. "Look at this guy—just because he scores three goals against Pine Hurst he thinks he can tell us how to live our love lives." Just a hint of longing shone in Guy's eyes as he held out his hand to Connie and said, "You feel like taking a walk?"  
  
Without hesitation, Connie took his hand. "Of course." Adam watched after them with satisfaction and smiled.  
  
Adam started to walk away from the rink towards the cafeteria to grab something for dinner. However, he was stopped by a voice sounding behind him.  
  
"Hey, Adam, hold on a second."  
  
Adam turned around and was surprised to see Charlie standing there.  
  
"I need to talk to you."


	9. Change of Hands

Charlie's mind drew a blank as Adam looked at him expectantly. Adam broke the silence. "How long have you been waiting there?"

Charlie had a serious look on his face. He knew that this was going to be hard for him. "Long enough. I saw you talk to Connie and Guy."  
  
Adam's face turned red as if he were embarrassed. "Oh, yeah... Well I was just...erm...We were talking about...umm...I totally screwed that up, didn't I?" Any confidence that Adam may have had lingering from the game had worn off quickly.  
  
Charlie interrupted Adam's nervous stammering. "You don't have to be embarrassed. And if you're going to continue being captain, you have to learn how to have confidence in your decisions. I just wanted to tell you that I thought that you did a good thing. You handled the situation as well as I could have."  
  
Adam was not quite following what Charlie was implying. "Wait, are you saying that you're okay with me being captain?"  
  
Adam and Charlie were both sitting with their backs against the wall. For a moment the only sound that could be heard was the distant chirping of the crickets in the night. Charlie turned his head sideways to look at Adam. "Do you really want it?" The expression on his face was searching and infinitely serious.  
  
Adam stared straight ahead. "At first, I didn't think that I wanted it—I didn't think I was capable of being captain of this team. After today, I want it more than anything. The feeling is addictive—but I guess you know that, right?"  
  
Charlie absentmindedly rubbed a streak of dirt off from his sneaker and spoke shortly. "Yeah."  
  
"What made you change your mind?" It was a simple question that would yield no simple answer, but Charlie tried.  
  
"I don't know... I looked around the locker room today and there were people I didn't recognize—I know their names are Preston Marshall, Ryan Hudson, Nick Harden, Derek Martin, Jason Hughes, David Engell and Barry Jensen and they're my teammates...but I don't KNOW them. And when those guys see me, all they see is some upstart second-line center who doesn't know anything about Varsity hockey. When they see you, they see one of the best high school hockey players in Minnesota—and they respect that. And me? Even I can see that this isn't my team anymore."  
  
The two sat in silence, with a nervous tension in the air. Adam drummed his fingers on the concrete and he knew that Charlie had not yet said everything there was to be said. So he waited, and let Charlie speak up on his own terms.  
  
Charlie ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Damn it, Banks!"  
  
The anger in his voice startled Adam. "Your rich parents give you everything you've ever wanted—a Porsche 911, a DVD collection from here to Timbuktu, a $500 black Seiko sports watch...Hell, the deluxe leather passport cover for your trip to London cost fifty-freakin'-dollars! Every university with a decent hockey team is going to throw a full athletic scholarship and playing time at you, while I'll be lucky to make a team as a walk-on. Hell, you've got brains to boot and a girlfriend who adores you. I'm just an average guy with average hockey abilities, average brains, average everything, but at least I knew that I had my own identity—I was Charlie Conway, Captain of the Ducks. Now, I don't even have that anymore. Banks, can't you see? You have everything, I have nothing, and I can't do anything about it!"  
  
Adam was startled by Charlie's display of such raw emotion. However, Adam also had feelings that he kept carefully hidden all this time—and now just seemed like the right time to unleash those feelings. "Do you think that I asked for all this? I didn't ask to be the son of Philip Banks—just like I didn't ask to feel like I was never good enough for my dad's expectations. I never wanted to be good at hockey—just like I never wanted to be hounded almost every day by college coaches who don't know what privacy is. And I didn't ask to be captain of this team—like I never asked to be at odds with my best friend." Adam stared up into the sky. "I just take everything that comes at me and try to do the best I can. Can you blame me for that, Charlie?"  
  
Charlie sighed with resignation. "As much as I'd like to, I can't. Right now, all I really want is to have my best friend back. Can we be cool again, Banks?"  
  
There were so many unsettled issues between the two boys, but life could not be made tidy in a span of a day. Charlie and Adam's problems would take time to work out—but at least they understood each other, and maybe that's all they needed.  
  
They started for the cafeteria together, walking side by side.  
  
"Well, at least I've always been the good-looking one," Charlie quipped.  
  
"Oh, no doubt," Adam deadpanned.  
  
It was at that moment that they knew that they'd always be there for each other.


	10. Inevitable

Connie and Guy continued to walk together, side by side, in the night. They walked in silence, not even realizing that their hands were still clasped—it felt like old times, almost.  
  
Connie turned to look at Guy, a mischievous look on her face. "So, Guy, what exactly is it about Francesca Nielson that you like so much? You know, other than the dazzling intellect and sincere concern about worldwide issues."  
  
"Well, she does know A LOT about how to tell a fake Louis Vuitton bag from a real one, which I suppose is one of the most pressing world issues out there. By the way, it's all in the seams—that's how you tell the difference apparently. Also, you have to look out for the number codes—real Louis Vuitton bags have them but fake ones don't," Guy deadpanned. "But seriously, don't be so hard on her. She's really a nice person."  
  
Connie searched Guy's face. "What else do you like about her?"  
  
Guy squirmed a little—Connie's line of questioning was making him a little nervous. "Well, Francesca lets me drive her car sometimes, her dad owns St. Paul Honda and her mom makes a mean Key Lime pie."  
  
Connie frowned, "Guy, be serious. I want to know."  
  
Guy thought about it. "I guess I like Francesca because she laughs at my jokes and always makes me feel like my opinions matter." Guy could not be any more serious than he was at that moment.  
  
"So, basically, she's not like me?" Connie was unsuccessful at hiding the hurt look on her face.  
  
"No, Connie, that's not how I meant it at all." Guy almost slapped himself on the forehead.  
  
"Guy, you don't have to apologize. I just had no idea that I made you feel that way." Connie stared down into the concrete and kicked at a pebble.  
  
Guy turned the tables. "What about you, Connie? What is it about Zach Graft that makes your heart flutter?"  
  
In her most serious tone, Connie answered, "Well obviously, he's popular, he can smash empty soda cans on his forehead with ease, and," Connie raised her pointer finger as if making the most important point of all, "he's in a band."  
  
It was Guy's turn to frown. "Come on, Connie, be real."  
  
Connie bit her lower lip, a habit of hers that Guy found totally sexy. "I guess I like Zach because he thinks that I'm feminine and sexy and attractive...He makes me feel like a girl."  
  
"And I thought that I had been dating a guy this whole time?" Guy wasn't quite sure whether he was joking or if he was seriously indignant about that assertion.  
  
"You know I don't mean it that way." She looked Guy straight in the eye. "I guess that we had been playing hockey for so long together that I became androgynous to you. I was just Connie, the one constant in your life that wasn't going to grow up and change. Well, guess what, Guy? I did and I have. I don't mean to sound like a sex-education video, but I'm becoming a young woman and sometimes I'd like to feel that way."  
  
"Oh, jeez, Connie...You're embarrassing me." Guy wrapped his arm around Connie's shoulder and placed a kiss on her cheek. "You have to know that I'm crazy about you."  
  
Connie looked up at Guy's face and reached up with her fingers to tweak his nose. "And YOU have to know that I always think your jokes are funny—even the one about the pirate in the desert—and your opinions matter to me. You know, that one time when you outlined the reasons why 'Bring It On' should be considered the best movie ever in the history of the world for three hours—I appreciated the amount of thought you put into that."  
  
Guy laughed. "I guess we'd been going out for so long that we took each other for granted. How corny is that?"  
  
The two of them continued to walk, Guy's arm still around Connie's shoulder. "Connie, do you remember when I told you that you weren't the same girl I knew when we first met?"  
  
A dark expression passed through Connie's eyes. "Yes. What about it?"  
  
Guy's tone was enigmatic. "I just wanted to tell you that I meant what I said. You're right and I was right; you aren't the same Connie that I met all those years back. You aren't obsessed with unicorns, don't wear headbands and can't play hopscotch anymore to save your life. For some reason, I woke up one day and realized this fact. What I failed to see, however, was that I had changed, too. It's all a part of growing up, I guess. It's just what people do. And that doesn't mean that our relationship was worse in some way—it was just different." Guy laughed to himself. "Jeez, I guess Banks does know what he's talking about. The point is that I still care about you, Connie. Can you forgive me?"  
  
Connie smiled at him, a beautiful and vibrant smile that made Guy feel warm. "Of course—but on one condition..."  
  
Guy grinned at Connie, and loved the feeling. "And that is?"  
  
"Pull out that silly hat of yours for old times' sake." Guy couldn't tell if she was joking, and hoped to hell that she was.  
  
"You cannot be serious. I think that I'm going to have to rethink all this."  
  
There was another silence, but this time the silence was comfortable. Connie playfully shoved Guy by the arm. "Alright, you win. I just don't think anyone else could handle a resurrection of the hat." 


	11. The End

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read my story and left a review. You guys rock and encourage me to write! I hope you all enjoy this last chapter. At first I didn't really like this story, but it's grown on me and I had fun writing it. Watch out for my next story, "The Sophomore Chronicles" which provides several glimpses into the sophomore year of Adam Banks.  
  
The next Monday morning, exactly a week from their first appointment, Portman sat waiting in Mr. Turner's office. After a week with his toughened-up schedule and several nights of thinking, Portman was still not sure if he had made his decision and was anxious to keep his appointment with the academic counselor.  
  
The door behind Portman was pushed open and he could hear Mr. Turner enter, humming a tune. Turner, not expecting to see anyone in his office, gave out a yelp and spilled the cup of coffee he was holding all over his freshly-pressed dress shirt.  
  
"Oh, shit!" Neither of them was quite sure who yelled the obscenity and there was a panicked outburst in the room. Portman grabbed a fistful of tissues from the box on Turner's desk and handed them to him quickly.  
  
After the two of them had calmed down, Mr. Turner deadpanned in his most serious and composed voice. "That was really hot."  
  
As Portman heard his relaxed voice, he took in Turner's stained shirt, tousled hair and red face. There was a silence in the office—and then Portman laughed. He laughed harder than he remembered ever laughing in the presence of a school administrator. Turner took in Portman's stooped-over, cackling figure and started laughing, too. That moment was critical to Portman—it assured him that he could trust Mr. Turner.  
  
"So, Mr. Portman, I imagine you're here to talk about your schedule. What did you decide?" Mr. Turner put on an air of nonchalance, but he waited intently for Dean's answer.  
  
Portman's face was enigmatic. "Do you really think that I could go to college?"  
  
"You are a young man with so much promise, Mr. Portman. I knew when you enrolled at this school that you could bring something special and unique to this campus—and I have not been disappointed. I think any college would be lucky to have you." Mr. Turner spoke with all the sincerity that he possessed.  
  
Portman was not quite convinced. "What about my record, Mr. Turner? I've been to three different juvies before I was 14. I think that all those colleges are going to take one look at my application and laugh their asses off, before sending me off to rejection oblivion."  
  
Portman put on a tough front, but Mr. Turner could see that deep down, he was just afraid of being rejected, feeling like he wasn't good enough. "On the contrary, Dean—most universities now include a comprehensive review in their admissions process. Along with grades, strength of schedule, extracurricular activities and test scores, schools are now looking very closely at personal circumstance in making their decisions."  
  
Portman knew what Mr. Turner was saying but wanted him to elaborate. "And that means?"  
  
"The fact that you do have such a storied past, and have succeeded in spite of it—that's a real testament to your character. Coupled with your good grades, excellent test scores, tough class schedule and hockey experience, I don't think you'll have any problem gaining admission to almost any college that you could imagine." Mr. Turner paused. "That is, of course, if you decide to keep the schedule you have right now. What do you say?"  
  
Portman sat in thought while Mr. Turner sat in suspense. "Well, I've always been a Michigan football fan—maybe I'll go there."  
  
Mr. Turner looked at Portman for a long moment, an indescribable look in his eyes. Inexplicably to Portman, Mr. Turner stood up and left his desk to stand in front of him, placing his hands on Portman's shoulders. "Are you sure about this?"  
  
Portman nodded, and he was more certain than he initially thought. "Yes."  
  
"Fantastic!" Before Portman had time to react, Mr. Turner enveloped him in a hug. Portman smiled in spite of himself, not particularly used to having someone care so much about his future, and hugged him back.  
  
It was September 9th, and all had gathered at the Banks residence to celebrate Adam's 17th birthday. The Ducks were there, of course—Adam could not imagine spending his day with anybody else. Surprisingly, however, Adam also invited his senior teammates. For some reason, the day would not seem right without them. Even more surprising, all of them had come. Adam looked around and smiled.  
  
There was Nick Harden and Ryan Hudson, two of the most popular guys at school, listening intently to Averman tell one of his patented jokes. "And then the Scotsman stood up in disbelief and screamed 'Walk PR-R-OUD, man! Walk proud!"  
  
Nick and Ryan burst out laughing. "Dude, this guy is going to make me shit my shorts!" Ryan exclaimed.  
  
Charlie, Portman, Fulton, Barry, Jason and Preston played Texas Hold 'Em on the Banks' fine and expensive dining table, and things were getting heated in a friendly way. Fulton slammed his cards onto the table and raised his fist in triumph. "That's right, you bastard—I saw that bluff coming from a mile away!" The other guys groaned and simultaneously threw their cards at him. Charlie looked up and met Adam's eye, and the two best friends grinned at each other.  
  
Goldberg and Kenny sat on the stairs of the house with Keller Paxson and Georgina Frederickson, Nick and Ryan's impossibly beautiful girlfriends. Adam laughed out loud as he watched Keller and Georgina give the two boys amateur palm readings. What was even funnier, however, was how seriously Goldberg was taking it. "So, that little crevice there, is that supposed to signify my future happiness with Uma Thurman or Alyssa Milano?"  
  
Derek Martin, who was known as a supreme partier but was simply a hockey purist at heart, was sprawled out on the carpet with Dwayne and Russ. Various newspapers with early NHL season previews were strewn all over. The three of them had highlighters out, from who-knows-where, and were discussing the advantages and disadvantages of a rumored trade.  
  
"Look at you two, all sappy and romantic...It's making me slightly sick." Julie regarded Connie and Guy with mock disdain. For the past few days, the couple had been inseparable. Both Zach Graft and Francesca Nielson were unexpectedly amiable about being dumped. "I guess I'm okay with losing out to a junior chump just because you're meant for him," Zach had said to Connie with a grin. At the moment, Connie was playfully nibbling on Guy's ear.  
  
Julie made a puking gesture down her throat with her finger. "Seriously, you guys, the gag factor here with all the PDA is off the charts. I think—" All of a sudden Julie stopped speaking as a new person entered through the Banks' foyer.  
  
At first Julie's expression was one of startled shock, but in a second she stood up and ran to the figure with boundless energy. "Scooter!" Julie flung herself without abandon towards Scooter and he caught her, laughing as he carried her over his shoulder. Adam was almost as happy (but obviously not in that romantic way) as Julie was to see his friend.  
  
"Hey, man, it's awesome to see you." The two slapped hands in one of those mysterious male handshakes. "Thanks for coming—I thought you'd get all caught up in your exciting college life to make time for your lowly junior friend."  
  
"Yeah, well, you know what they say—don't forget the little people," Scooter joked. Inconspicuously, he whispered in Adam's ear, "So, you're not mad at me for giving you the recommendation, right?" referring to the captain position.  
  
Adam shook his head. "No, not at all. Thanks for believing in me. It's worked out better than I ever expected."  
  
Scooter grinned. "I always knew you had it in you, even when you didn't know. Good luck, man, even though I know you don't need it."  
  
Suddenly Adam felt arms drape around his shoulder's from behind. "Hey, babe—your parents want to light the cake now." Adam turned around and smiled at Tamsin. In all the hoopla of the beginning of school and the hockey season, she had given him all the space he needed and Adam was grateful for that. He was lucky for that, and lucky for a number of other things. Adam was about to protest at the archaic and somewhat childish birthday tradition, but suddenly he had a burst of inspiration.  
  
He let Tamsin lead him by the hand where his parents set up the cake and candles. All the other activity ceased and everyone gathered around. The candles flickered and everyone was mesmerized. Tamsin nudged Adam's arm. "Go ahead, make a wish."  
  
Everyone looked at Adam expectantly, and he looked back, taking in all of the happy and contented expressions. The moment was magical, and Adam thought about his birthday wish. It was so obvious that Adam almost laughed aloud.  
  
My wish is that—no matter how things change, we all grow up and people come and go—we'll continue to feel the way we do right now. We can't be afraid of change—we have to embrace it and all the new challenges that it brings. That is what life is all about. Adam blew out all 18 candles, 17 plus one to grow on, and for him it signified not only the beginning of a new year, but a new era. 


End file.
